Y

Back from Location X. Had a fantastic time. The flights back seemed to be jetting faster than normal -- the pilots ready for bed? I was too. Except the ground crew at Chattanooga shared, I believe, less than an entire intellect between them. They were mystified by my wheelchair, looking at it like parts from the space shuttle. One of the problems with flying is that your chair has to be disassembled, to a certain degree, to fit in the cargo bay. And this is often enough done with less than adequate care, let's say. In Baltimore, my armest was bent so badly out of true it was impossible for me to drive. I had to sit around for three hours demanding they do something to fix it before they finally sent up an honest to God jet engine mechanic. They have some serious tools. He was able to bend it, with considerable effort, back to shape.

But last night I wasn't so lucky. No power would come on. I think they've broken something, torn a wire, some kind of connection isn't happening.

So I'm kind of stuck. Well, not kind of. I'm in my push chair, which I regard with a kind of intemperate loathing. Hopefully, this will be easily fixed.